Friday, June 7, 2013

What I didn’t do on my vacation

By S. Derrickson Moore

I had ten whole days off. And I had plans. Big plans.
At first, I was consideringg a birthday visit to son Ryan in Portland, but scheduling snafus interfered.
I figured it was a perfect opportunity for a productive staycation.
I was going to get out the leaf blower and clean up my yard and hire someone to do some repair work. Then I was going to finally get around to taking advantage of lower interest rates and refinance my house.
I sprinted through some pre-vacation extras to help my colleagues who are juggling new duties and new positions.
Then, I’d planned to zip home after work and whip up something delicious for an impromptu gathering to honor our late, great moms — some recently departed.
There were some reorganization projects in mind: closets to clean and reorganize for the summer, books and clothing to give away to worthy groups and organizations.
I was determined to design my own spa week, finally getting back to exercising every day, alternating lap swims, weight training and hikes through the hood.
I was finally going to organize the contents of all my cartons of clippings, files and photos hastily rescued after the Sun-News fire.
I wanted to have leisurely lunches and dinners with dear friends and catch up on our adventures. And maybe zip off to Truth of Consequences for a healing soak and a beach walk before the summer crowds take over.
I was going to make sense of a health insurance snafu, because reaching a physician and insurer agreement on just one word amounted to a formidable sum.
After our first big rain of the year seemed to trigger every ache related to line-of-duty wounds and falls, I decided to start with the health insurance issues.
Maybe I gave too much at the office, but my usual communication skills seemed at an impasse. No matter how I tried, via visits, faxes and phone calls, I couldn’t seem to convey the clear-to-me insurance mandates to the doctor and his staff.
I began to suspect this was not meant to be a productive, working staycation.
The aches got worse. I took a nap. And more naps. I watched old movies and documentaries. I napped some more and went to bed early.
Occasionally, I made an effort. I surveyed the yard and picked up a piece of windblown litter: an innocent-looking paper towel. It was embedded with prickly desert passengers. I tweezed out the prickers, decided it was an omen and took a nap.
I called my friends, wished them well and asked if we could do our mom’s day memorial another year.
Then I took a nap.
I went swimming twice and hiked a few blocks, about 20 percent of my regular workout regimen, but enough to warrant a few more naps, I decided. I went through everything in my DVR and watched several movies, many for the second time.
I didn’t research delicious, nutritious new recipes. More in the mood to nap than shop, let alone cook, I decided to use up all my fresh produce and live on salads.
At the end of the week, I took stock. Despite my laziness, inactivity and lack of culinary creativity, I’d lost five pounds.
I checked out my yard, where a windstorm had blown in more leaves, twigs and prickly litter. If I had cleaned it up, it would be dirty again anyway, I realized. And I might as well wait a few more weeks before hiring someone to clean it all and prune my pines.
In one of the trees sat a skinny-looking hummingbird. He was still there and aggressively vibing me an hour later, so I spent a few minutes to retrieve the hummer feeder from the garage, fill it with sugar water and hang it on the patio.
Then I took a nap.

S. Derrickson Moore may be reached at 575-541-5450. Follow her on Twitter @DerricksonMoore

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